Project Paperclip
by TheNarcolepticOne
Summary: 1950's AU. German rocket engineer Ludwig attempts to make peace with himself before being thwarted by an American rancher; a man whose intention is to push Ludwig away from predisposed stereotypes. But it's a tactic that gets him to start thinking like a kid again.


**Summary : 1950's AU. German rocket engineer Ludwig attempts to make peace with himself before being thwarted by an American rancher; a man whose intention to push Ludwig away from predisposed stereotypes gets him to start thinking like a kid again.**

 **A/N : Wrote this as a way to relieve stresses of depression. That and probably watching October Sky as a way to cope.**

 **Movies can sometimes be a good remedy.**

* * *

The image of bright, clear and sunny skies seen in the many adaptations of the desert filled New Mexico didn't mention scorching hot, one hundred degree summers in their brochures. Ludwig should have implied that from the start, though there wasn't much he could do to try and shield himself away from it. The most he had on him other than the tan, short-sleeved button down shirt with the matching shorts was a pair of sunglasses that did nothing to really protect him. Anything that wasn't under the clothing was subject to sunburn.

Ludwig sighed, expecting as much. The White Sands was quite the sight though; a break away from the long periods of number crunching and precision required measurements. The dunes, when compared to the ground itself, felt as if they were the size of two to three-story buildings. They undulated and swirled in many confusing directions that only ever really reminded anyone passing by that they were in a desert. Yucca sprouted in spotted locations, giving no care to let the land appear to be purely fictional. The sun was at its peak, and without the sunglasses, the view of the field was almost blinding to the naked eye.

The white hill before him was too steep to traverse by foot without getting a significant amount of sand in his shoes, and Ludwig judged that perhaps driving a few more meters could lead to a lower elevation of sand that could be easier to climb. He felt the soles of his shoes kick up sand as he continued to walk back toward his Crosley, using his dry hand to try and wipe away the extra sweat that was developing behind his neck. The car bounced a little as he sat back inside, and he removed his sunglasses before starting up the vehicle again. It let out a growl before springing to life, and he pulled back and forward again as he resumed driving down the pre-carved path into the park.

Weather like this wasn't common in Germany, of course. He was familiar with more trees and more life around him. The greenery and charm that came with his homeland had many variations depending on where anyone visited. Tree arrangements weren't random and spread out like the yuccas; they preferred to clump together in large packs that were so tight, the sun hardly ever touched the ground. It was a scene that was something he hadn't ever thought of missing, until it was gone and a thousand and one miles away from him. The road before him was bleached and quiet and empty: a safe place away from the rest of the populations of people. He could create and guide rockets into the sky in isolation, and it was a freedom that he didn't want to underappreciate. It was either that or spend the remainder of his life in prison.

Along the road, he came across another large clearing that was meant for cars to be parked in, as well as a lower plain to navigate over. He spotted another vehicle there as well; a convertible Bel Air that was shiny and sleek enough to contrast the white sand around it. It was a bright, obnoxious yellow that reeked of someone who liked making impressions. Ludwig pulled over a little ways away from it, plopping the sunglasses back comfortably on his face before going out again into the oven that was the desert.

The powder was a lot more matted here, and he locked his car before going on to climb up into sandy area of the dunes. He furrowed his brows, attempting to try and gauge where exactly he was in the park, but found it a useless effort to try and do after seeing nothing more but one patch of grass and another yucca far out into the field. Within his view, however, he noticed the form of what looked like an older man with a traditional all American rancher hat perched on his head. He wasn't too far away from Ludwig, as he heard him whistle his way up a large hill.

And he had a large laundry basket over his shoulder on the way up.

Ludwig blinked. He couldn't get his body to move right then. But he was honestly curious (and actually very nervous) for the man continuing to go up. He was not a sociable man normally, and living in the United States stifled his entire interest in talking with anyone civil for the fear of unnecessary and racist comments. But he was genuinely curious on whatever compelled that man to suddenly decide to haul a laundry basket up to a hill.

He decided to sit down instead, seeing as he might as well become the audience member to this crazy plan. The figure took a few more minutes before reaching the top, and when he came close to the climax, he placed the sled on the precarious ledge. Displaced sand began to roll down the mountain as the man went to situate himself comfortably inside of the container. Ludwig met eyes with him when he looked up again, and before the American could properly react to being watched, the sled already began to slip downward.  
"WOO!"

Ludwig watched in astonishment as the makeshift sled descended at a rapid velocity back down the path that the man had taken. His hollers were echoed out into the vacuum of silence around the two of them. The man was even senseless enough to remove his hat and swing it around as if he were in a rodeo. Definitely the owner of the Bel Air.

The hot air around him almost felt briefly like an illusion. If it were any other place than here, he would have guessed that this would be the popular spot for snow sledding. Ludwig felt his gaze soften as he watched him finally skid to a halt while he giggled as a child would. The man stood up and walked over to him with the grin still etched into his face. Ludwig felt his heart sink several levels.

He wanted to leave.

Before he had a chance to brush himself off, the voice called to him.  
"Hold on there a minute, pal."

Ludwig waited, a little unsure, as the rancher came over to him while still holding the laundry basket over his shoulder. He was sandy all over from his socks to his hair.

"U-Uh…sorry."

The rancher blinked. The silence was felt for a long while.

"Oh. Not from around here, are you?"

"Not really, no. I-I am from the Proving Grounds." Ludwig stammered. "The…missile site."

"Ah. Explains this…" he used his freehand to gesture at his own clothes. "Get up you got going on. But I thoughts things that go on there ain't allowed to go in here? The people that run this place don't like it when all the extra shit starts falling from the sky from your projects."  
"I am only on a break," Ludwig tried to justify. He didn't like the idea of being unwelcome in the forms of both being a foreigner and a military participant. "I just wanted to see this place. It is very…vast."

The man looked out briefly from where they stood, smiling.  
"Yeah. Guess so. But it's what gives the place a little charm to it, ain't it? You got freedom to go to a place and not have to think too hard about whatever's going on out there in town."

"I suppose so."

A hand was suddenly thrusted in front of his chest.  
"Alfred Jones. Call me Al."

Ludwig blinked, hesitating a moment before realizing that the other was openly trying to shake his hand. He grasped it. The German was slightly astonished by this man's polite nature, even if he didn't quite have proper English. He'd had other encounters where people would curse at him if they heard the accent in his voice.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt."

"Oof. Mouthful of a name." said Alfred, giving a bit of a playfully disgusted face in reaction to hearing how it was pronounced.

"Ludwig is fine." said Ludwig with a sheepish blush. The heat that was outwardly burning his cheeks was a good cover up.

"Ludwig. Got any water? You look like you're gonna pop your brain out from the heat out here."

The German shook his head, but only now probably feeling his head suddenly feel a little light and airy. He put a hand on his forehead while Alfred himself began to chuckle.

"Don't worry. People tend to forget about water when they're used to being surrounded by faucets. I got some to spare."

He put an arm around the German's shoulder as he began to lead him back toward the parking lot. Ludwig closed his eyes briefly, welcoming the help as he was led to the stationary cars. Instead of going inside of the car itself, the American set the man right next to the car in the shade that blocked against the sun. Ludwig opened his eyes again, feeling some of the extra sand creep up his shorts as he watched Alfred open his car door and take out a canteen.

"Here."

He handed it to him. Ludwig drank it up without complaint or question, guzzling down most of it before shamefully handing it back to him.  
"…sorry."

"Don't be. You're German. I thoughts you guys were the ones who wore thick coats to Africa and got heatstroke because of it."

"Something like that. It is not normally over one hundred degrees in Europe."

"S'pose not."

Alfred sat down next to him, plopping the laundry basket on the ground as he put the hat back on. He sighed as he relaxed back onto the car's frame.

"So…what do you do for a living, Lud? Launch blank missiles into the air to test if they break things?"

"A little," he said with a sigh. "Measuring trajectory and see how close I get to making a mark. It is either that or giving suggestions on diagrams that look outdated."

"Physics?" said Alfred incredulously. "All theory and no actual engineering?"

"Unfortunately," Ludwig found himself chuckling a little. "The best I can build is a birdhouse."

"Hah. Makes you an outlier of the stereotype then, right?"

"Well, I am not familiar with Americans so willing to speak to Germans either."

"Takes one to know one. That, and the war is over. I'm not all interested in holding grudges when we're all s'posed to feel happy. Y'know?"

Ludwig raised the canteen. "First time I have heard someone take it generously like that."

"Hear hear." replied Alfred, smiling as he took off his hat and used that to 'toast' with him.

They stayed like that for a few hours, watching as the sun continued to climb across the sky and escape down into the sand in the distance. Ludwig had finished the rest of the water, staring at the sky's change from light blue to deep shades of violet and red. He removed his sunglasses to see it clearly. At the first instances of stars, Ludwig felt Alfred nudge him.

"…you can pay me back for the water if you come back tomorrow with your own sled."

"Deal."

* * *

 ** _Posted January 19, 2017_**

 **Notes on some parts of the story:**

 **\- The title comes from the Operation Paperclip, which was a program of post-WWII efforts to try and get former Nazi scientists and engineers to be recruited into the United States as a way for them to get government employment after Nazi Germany fell in 1945. Also, they wanted extra people to help them out in the Cold War lol.**

 **\- As a result of this employment, many of these men were relocated** **into a lot of South Western grounds and I just happened to pick White Sands because why not.**

 **\- "Proving Grounds" refers the former name of the White Sands Missile Range, which was the White Sands Proving Grounds**

 **As always, though. Reviews and favorites are greatly appreciated!**


End file.
